


An Afternoon In Eol's Forge

by Quietbeansidhe



Category: The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: BDSM, Beleriand, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Elves, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hair-pulling, Hardcore, Light Dom/sub, Marriage, Multiple Orgasms, Nan Elmoth, Oral Sex, Rope Bondage, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Spanking, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 12:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5707894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quietbeansidhe/pseuds/Quietbeansidhe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There is no tenderness when she comes to me in the forge. That is something we reserve for our marriage bed and the soft comfort of our home. But down in my forge, it’s about sweat, force and yielding."</p><p>This story is an add-on scene to my fanfic Eol and Aredhel: The Real Story, but from Eol's POV. Eol struggles with the need to possess his beautiful Noldo wife in every way and comes to an understanding of what it means to really belong to someone. 100% pure smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Afternoon In Eol's Forge

Before Aredhel entered my forest, I thought I was happy, in fact, I know I was happy. But it was different. The kind of happiness one feels because they don’t know any better. Because they have yet to love and hate the same person. Yet to cry and wallow in absolute confusion one day, while shake with joy and desire the next, all because of a hastily spoken word or misunderstood action. 

When I compare before and after, I realize that it wasn’t until the day I found her, sleeping beside a stream of all things, that I really started my life.

My foster father, Elu Thingol, once told me that when he met his wife in the very forest where I dwell, he was so taken with her that it took two hundred years to satisfy his first wave of desire.

Perhaps it runs in families.

I will be the first to admit it: The need to possess another is strong, and it is a sensation to which I always had thought myself immune, but in year six of my marriage to Aredhel, I find myself overcome with need on an almost daily basis.

I hide much of it from her. I believe that, if she knew the depths of my desire, of my depravity, she would turn away. Yet day after day, she receives me with a hunger that matches my own. 

A hands tangled in hair, salty, damp, agonizing hunger that sends my mind careening into nothingness as reliably as it dissolves my body into senseless pleasure.

There are times when something as seemingly benign as the scent of her hair as she leans over me to refill my wine glass will awaken the fire within me and it is all I can do to dismiss the servants and take her right there until she moans my name in a building crescendo of want. We rarely make it to the bedroom.

If it were merely love, this would make a pretty story indeed. A hopeful story that many elves in Doriath share. Meet. Bond. Marry. Love.

But for Aredhel and I, there is a something that underlies our endearments. A darker force that makes me want to own her, to force her to cling to me, to command her to obey me, and to punish her if she does not.

When she spreads her knees for me, I feel a measure of triumph. When she arches her back and cleaves to me as I enter her, I feel the arrogance of conquest. When she lays beneath me, quivering in sweaty completion, I feel benevolence. 

After we make love, I return to my forge to work and to think. I worry that, one day, she will overpower my will and leave. And it’s in those moments that I understand that I need Aredhel much more than she needs me. I wonder why she allows it; I shake my head that she should want me – love me – with the same intensity that I want her.

These thoughts stir my desire yet again, and I feel that familiar urge to own her, to remind her of her promise to me, to drive my need into her until she begs me not to stop.

I am so lost in my thoughts that I barely notice the rustling as Aredhel enters the forge and perches herself on a barrel close to the furnace.

“Hello Husband.”

I have not yet turned to look at her, but I can hear the sultry burr in her voice and my stomach tightens in anticipation. I smile as I pound the glowing metal in front of me with a heavy hammer.

“Hello Wife.”

The sword needs more work, but I put down the hammer and turn to carry the glowing metal to the water. I plunge it into the pool and it hisses, turning the water to steam. I finally glance up at Aredhel.

She’s carefully balanced on the barrel. One knee is bent against her chest beneath her skirts, and she leans back when I look at her. Her dark lashed eyes look up at me in brazen invitation. My beautiful wife. I would like to think she has no idea how her beauty affects me but I am not so naive, and nor is she.

I leave the sword in the water and focus on Aredhel. I remove the heavy apron I wear to protect my chest and hang it over a post, and she slowly lowers her leg, never breaking eye contact with me. Her eyes travel over my face then down my tunic to my leggings.

My desire is obvious. I see the gleam of amusement in her eyes and I slowly shake my head. Naughty elleth. I slowly walk to the side of the forge where I keep strips of leather that are used to wrap the hilt of the swords I forge for the King.

On a shelf against the stone wall, the strips are organized according to width. I choose a medium width length of brown leather, wrap it around my palm, then I turn back around to look at her. 

She watches me, her mouth open and I see a glint of fear in her eyes. Good, I think to myself. Let her be scared. Let her wonder what I will do when I take control. I walk towards her and I see her swallow. Then she forces a smile and tries to be coy.

“You are so dirty, Eol. Covered in sweat. I hate that.”

I reach out and curl my leather covered hand around the back of her head, forcefully pulling her face into mine as I roughly kiss her. Her lips part so that my tongue can explore her depths.

There is no tenderness when she comes to me in the forge. That is something we reserve for our marriage bed and the soft comfort of our home. But down in my forge, it’s about sweat, force and yielding. 

I tangle my fingers tightly in her long brown hair and pull her head back, exposing her neck to me, and she gasps at the motion. Her eyes stare at me and her lip curls slightly. She is debating whether to push back, she is angry at my use of force, and I am aroused at the thought of it. 

“Go ahead, Aredhel, try to resist me.”

She rises to the challenge and strains against me but my hold on her is too tight.

I gently run my tongue along her jawline to show her that I can also be kind. She has been helping in the kitchen. The scent of vanilla lingers on her skin and mixes with the rose water she uses each morning. Her scent is intoxicating, so out of place alongside the earthier scents of my work, and I struggle to restrain myself.

“You know what you can expect when you come to me in this forge. Do you dare complain?”

She winces as I tighten my grasp, then her lips spread in a sultry smile.

“I like you clean,” she says.

I narrow my eyes. “I don’t think so, _Princess_. I think you lie.” I lightly skim the top of her chest where her breasts push against the silken neckline of her dress. I study her soft skin and wonder if I will be able to taste the vanilla on her breasts when I take them in my mouth.  

“Are you going to punish me?”

My hand pauses and I look up at her. “Do you want me to?”

We stare at each other for a heartbeat, I raise my eyebrow, and, almost imperceptibly, she nods yes.

She gasps as my hand unhooks the top of her bodice and releases a soft white breast. I pull her to me roughly. Then, without letting go of her hair, I bend over her and take the rosy nipple in my mouth. I smile; vanilla. She moans as I switch between worrying it with my tongue and softly biting with my teeth. She grasps my hair and her breath quickens. 

I feel her hand around my chin, urging my face upwards again. I look at her, my beautiful Aredhel, my wandering princess. Her eyes are dark and her lips already swollen with anticipation. I can see the flush rise from her breasts and slowly climb up her neck.

By the Valar, she is gorgeous. For a moment, I am lost in my love for her and am her servant. I kiss her neck and run my fingers along her lips. Her mouth curves in a smile (amusement?) and again, that darker edge to my desire surges forward, and I grab her roughly, lifting her off the barrel.

I need to taste her, to claim her mouth, and I crush my lips to hers, not caring if it hurts her. I _want_ to hear her cry out. But she moves her mouth against mine with matching fervor. She wants this. She has already signaled her submission and is as aroused and excited by the prospect as I am.

Together we stumble backwards through the entrance to the small bothy adjoining the forge. I remove pieces of her clothing as we go.  My lips never leaving her skin, I unhook the rest of her bodice, untie the laces of her skirts, and leave discarded clothes in a path from the forge to the small bed in the corner. She unties my ponytail and runs her fingers through my hair.

We fall onto the bed together and she tries to straddle me, but I resist, pinning her below me. This is my place, and I will have her as I want her.

I hold two slender wrists and pinion them above her head. She stares up at me, lips parted and panting. I smile down at her. I love to see her like this, her breasts free for me to gaze at, her face flushed with desire.

“Today we play by my rules. Do you understand?”

She nods her consent and I lower my head and gently suck one nipple as a reward. I hear her sharp intake of breath and pull up to stare at her again. “Do you trust me?”

Her mouth closes and her head turns to look at the leather strap, still wrapped around my palm. Her eyes turn wary, but I know her well. I understand the stages her mind will go through and wait patiently for her to respond. Finally, she nods.

“Good girl.” I flick my tongue over her other nipple. I like this. Gentle Aredhel. Submissive Aredhel.

Again I raise my head.

“Take off the rest of your things.”

She stares at me for a moment, and I touch her cheek. She turns her head and kisses the rough callouses of my hand and smiles.

I roll to my side to allow her to rise. She stands before me, wearing only a white cotton underskirt that she lets drop onto the wood floor.

My breath catches. Her body is lean and muscular. Her breasts are full and heavy and her belly is flat. The thatch of brown hair between her legs is like a beacon and my erection jerks in her direction, straining to escape my leggings. I lean close to her, guided by the scent of her arousal as she stands in front of me, letting me see her fully.

It is all I can do to not pull her into me, to resist burying my face and tongue in her dark folds.

She looks down at me. Her irises are almost black with desire and she takes a small step towards me. That cheeky smile is back; teasing me, testing me. I raise an eyebrow.

“Kneel,” I say.

She hesitates for a moment, then lowers herself to her knees. Her face is once again level with my own, and I lean forward and plant gentle kisses down her throat while cupping her heavy breasts, rubbing her nipples between my thumb and finger.

She moans my name as my hands roam down her slender waist and back up over the white of her arms. Her skin is smooth and soft and it gleams in the sunlight that floods the window above the bed.  

So far she had not tried to undress me. She would not dare. She is not sure which game we play and, truth be told, nor do I.

I stand up and pull my tunic over my head. She raises her eyes to watch me and one hand lowers to idly caress the bud of her nipple. My mouth goes dry at the sight of her touching herself. I revel in her arousal, but I do not show it. I ignore her and fetch the coil of rope sitting on the floor by the door.

When she realizes my intent, her eyes widen. She remains kneeling on the floor but she bites her lip and her dark blue eyes stare up at me with a mixture of alarm and anticipation.

I am rock hard at the thought of it and shift uncomfortably in my leggings. I crouch down behind her and tie her wrists behind her back. Then I reach over to pull a silk tie from under the pillow, and tie it around her eyes.

I stand up to admire my work. The picture of her kneeling on the rough wooden floor, bound and blindfolded, almost undoes me. Her breasts sit high and round on her chest; her nipples are hard as pebbles. Her full mouth is open and rich brown hair spills down her back.

I slowly undo the leather laces of my leggings as I walk around her. With a relived sigh, I free myself from the tight confines of my clothes, and my cock stands hard and straight. I run my hand down the length of it and long to put it in her mouth, but not yet. Right now I have other things to do.

I slowly unwind the leather strap from my palm – it is about the length of my arm - and standing behind her, I lightly run the strip down her back and over the globes of her round backside. She inhales sharply through her nose but makes no noise, otherwise.

It reminds me of breaking a beautiful young horse. She is nervous but curious. I can use the leather for pleasure or pain and it’s up to Aredhel how she’ll receive it. But there is no question now that she is getting the strap.

I kneel behind her on the floor and kiss the back of her shoulder,then, without warning, I sharply bring the strap down across her bottom. She yelps in both pain and surprise. For a moment I hesitate, but I’ve used great restraint and I see her skin has broken out in shivers. The sun illuminates her translucent body hair as it stands on edge. Her breathing is fast and she bites her lip. I reach out and touch the red welt left by the leather and she leans back into my hand. That’s it, Aredhel, I think to myself. You like this.

I pull away and whip her again on the other cheek. Not hard, just enough to shock her, and she yelps again, her torso bending forward towards the bed, exposing herself to me more fully. A surge of adrenaline and arousal courses through my body and I am overcome with the oddest sensation of wanting to simultaneously cause her pain and bring her comfort. It is a confusing mix of love and punishment, and I push it from my mind and whip her again. This time she yells louder. I reach out to squeeze her and my hand dips lower to find her sex is quivering and wet. I reach between her legs to brush the apex of her pleasure with my finger tips and she gasps and arches her back. She is more aroused than I had expected and my own erection juts forward above my laces.

With a steadying breath I pull back and bring the leather down across her bottom a fourth time. She surges forward with a loud cry and I know we have hit her limit. I look at the red skin of her bottom with satisfaction as I wipe a lock of hair out of my face. She is breathing heavily and a soft whimper escapes her lips every now and then.

I gently caress her bottom and she moans softly. The flagellation has made her hyper sensitive. I reach down again to touch her sex and her juices coat my fingers and palm. I use it to wet my own erection, and I am tempted to take her right there. To grab her hips and plunge into her and ride her till I can’t think anymore, but I look away and steady my breath. It would be too soon and I’m determined to draw this out. I want to teach this Noldo princess what it means to marry a strong Sindar prince.

I slowly walk around until I’m standing in front of her. For a moment, I almost regret the blindfold for my cock is level with her face, and I want to see the look in her eyes when she takes me.

Holding my member in my hand, I brush it against the alabaster of her cheek, leaving a streak of moisture glistening on her smooth skin. She inhales sharply and lowers her head. I reach down and gently tilt Aredhel’s chin upwards, a gentle reminder that she will do as I bid, then I brush my erection slowly across her lips. A small pink tongue darts out and licks a bead of fluid from the swollen tip of my shaft.

She knows what is going to happen next and she relaxes her jaw and opens her lips to receive me. I feel her soft breath ghost over the swollen head and my breath quickens.

I gently thrust past her lips and am enveloped in the delicious warmth of her mouth. Her tongue flicks over the tip of my cock and I close my eyes and shiver, then pause, relishing the sensation. I gently pull back but don’t leave her mouth. She eagerly sucks on the head of my erection and again, I close my eyes and throw my head back because the feel of her tongue circling my member feels like perfection. I open my eyes and look down at her. Seeing her blindfolded, hands tied behind her back, on her knees with my cock in her mouth almost causes me to lose control right there. I am overwhelmed by the utter eroticism of it, but I take a breath and thrust again, this time more insistent.

She moans, and I feel the vibration travel the length of my erection. I suck in my breath and exhale her name and now it’s hard to hold back. I feel myself falling, careening into ecstasy and my body yearns to establish a rhythm.

I tangle my hands in her hair and guide her mouth over me, again and again. She sucks and licks and I feel a knot of pleasure begin to coil more tightly in my groin as sparks of light travel up through my abdomen. I fight to maintain control. Her shoulders suddenly flex upwards and her head moves back sharply as I hit the back of her throat, and I pull back. I know her limits; how much she can take. Focus Eol. I slow my pace and she responds by swirling her tongue around the rim of the sensitive head. I exhale a shaky breath and look down at her.

“Are you enjoying this?” I ask.

“Mmmmm” she moans.

“You like the taste?” 

She moans again and I am riveted by the site of her blindfolded, her pink rosebud lips around my length. I am nearing the edge but it’s too soon. I withdraw and breath deeply to catch my breath. I count to five and wait, willing my body to relax. The longer I wait, the more pleasurable it will be when I finally climax. When I make her climax. She awaits her next order.

I lean down to remove my boots and then my leggings. My long hair softly brushes the front of her breasts and she inhales sharply. 

I pause.

She bites her lip and her hips move forward. Her head moves back a fraction. Her posture, breasts jutting up, hips rolled forward, neck exposed, tells me exactly what she needs from me. 

“Stand up.”

She obeys my command. Her mouth is open and her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip. She is panting now, her breasts pushing upwards with every breath. I smile; beautiful Aredhel, she has worked hard to please me. My pet deserves a reward. I kneel in front of her.

I place my hands on soft white thighs and lean over her to kiss one hip bone, then I drag my tongue across her belly and kiss the other. The musk of her arousal fills my senses and her hips tilt forward, seeking my touch.

I plant wet, lingering kisses above her thatch of soft brown hair and use my fingers to gently part her folds, revealing the centre of her pleasure. I exhale slowly, and she shivers as my warm breath teases her. 

Then slowly, agonizingly slowly, I taste her. This is my favourite part of pleasuring her, and I am in no rush. At first I go softly, like a cat, gently using my tongue to lick her and she tastes like salty rain with a lingering aroma of rose. Her scent intoxicates me and my tongue moves more quickly, gently lapping her sensitive centre. She begins to moan, and her hands strain at the ropes.

She moves against my face, finding her own rhythm, and I gently insert a finger into her wet, hot core. She moans again, this time louder, as I enter another finger and curl them forward, finding that spot, deep inside of her that makes her writhe with ecstasy, while my tongue works her clit with ever more pressure.

My hand and face drip with her wetness as she strains towards me, and her voice is a growing swell of pleasure. She is close now, I can feel the tension building in her body, the breathlessness of her voice. I insert a third finger inside of her, moving them in and out, then pressing them forward while my tongue laps at her insistently, softly sucking then flicking her centre, over and over. I know she is losing herself as she ruts without shame or inhibition against my face.

She pulls at the ropes and I use my free hand to slap her rump. She responds with a yelp and rush of wetness over my face and hand. She is close to her climax now but she forgets who is in control. I decide when and how she will organism and I decrease the pressure, easing her down, and still my hand.

She begs me not to stop, and I slap her again and remove my mouth all together. She  whimpers in desire and frustration.  “Aredhel,” I say in a strong voice.

She immediately quiets.

“Who is your master in this forge?” I keep my face close to her sex and so my breath teases her. I can feel the effort she exerts to not lean towards me, to not pull at her ropes.

“You are, my lord.” 

“And whom do you love?”

“Only you, my Lord Eol.”

“Do you really hate it when I’m dirty, Aredhel?”

She shakes her head.

“Pardon?” I scatter kisses down her thigh.

“No.”

“No?”

“No, my Lord.”

“So you like it?” I blow softly on her clitoris, and her breath escapes in a pant. 

“Yes,” she says, her voice rising with need.

I smile.  “I know you do, meleth nin. Now come here.” I hold both sides of her hips and pull her into my face.

I swirl my tongue around her wet centre and press the nerve just above it with my thumb and my other hand digs deeply into her hip. She is tense as a bowstring as I claim her with my mouth. My tongue greedily probes her slick sex again and again, pushing her towards her pinnacle.

She begs me incoherently in a forbidden language, and although the words are unfamiliar, their meaning is clear and this time I decide to release her. I lick her hard and fast until she stills, then begins to come. Her hands restrained, her energy focuses in one spot, and her climax explodes around us with searing passion and she yells my name into the sunlight

I tighten my arm around her legs to support her as she bends over me in shuddering pleasure. She is still whimpering and in the fading throes of her orgasm when I gently lift her onto the bed, remove the blindfold and untie her wrists. I kiss her eyes and the red marks left behind by the rope. 

Aredhel wraps her arms around my neck and draws me in to her. I bury my face in her slender neck as her pulse begins to normalize. 

“Eol,” she whispers. “My dark one.”

I can’t help but smile when I consider the strange fate that made it possible that I would hear this lovely foreign princess say my name with her strange Quenyan accent. I inhale the scent of her skin deeply.

She is tired, her body perfectly relaxed, but I have been patient enough, and I sit up. This is far from over.  

“Do you want some wine, my heart?”

She nods, and I rise to fill a glass from the decanter sitting on a corner table. I can feel her eyes on my back and I throw her a glance over my shoulder. She has rolled onto her side, her breasts hang heavy in front of her and her sex glistens.

I turn back around to pour the wine. My heart beats faster now and my cocks grows thick and hard for the second time that day.

I return to the bed with the goblet and take a drink. Holding the wine in my mouth, I lean in to kiss her, transferring the wine from my mouth to hers.

Her breath quickens with the sheer control and intimacy of the act, and I gently push her shoulder down so she lays on her back. I brush the hair out her of face and she smiles up at me. She always says I don’t smile enough, but when I look back at her, what I feel is beyond a smile. I long to join with her, my body craves her.

I lean over her and gently tease her breasts with my mouth. Then I part her knees with my hand. She opens to me smoothly and willingly.

My passion builds quickly. “Aredhel,” I whisper, again and again, working my way up her breasts, across her collarbone and up her swan-like neck until my lips cover her lips and my tongue hungrily tastes her tongue.

“Take me, my husband” she whispers into the space between our kisses. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyelids flutter as her body responds to me.

I reach down behind her to lift her against me, and she arches back, her arms straining against mine to pull me into her. “Please, Eol!” she moans, more insistent, and I pause to savor her face as she begs me to take her, but I am engorged to the point of agony and cannot prolong the moment. The tip of my erection parts her swollen lips, and I plunge into her with a moan of my own and am enveloped in her delicious wetness.

She leans up to kiss my open mouth as I begin to move over her, gliding in and out of her heat with long languid strokes.

She whimpers as I repeatedly enter her but I don’t break the kiss, even as my balls slap against her sex with each thrust and reverberate through my lower body. The feel her sucking my erection deep into her pulsating sex while I thrust my tongue into her mouth is exquisite.

I move faster, and my body takes over from my mind, claiming her depths with a feral cadence of its own. She writhes beneath me and rakes her nails down my back causing me to arch up as I thrust into her. She reaches up to lick my neck and bite my shoulder and she whispers to me, an ever quickening string of mindless words falling from her lips.

I sit up and, grabbing her knees, roughly pull her into me.  She is slick with my kisses and my sweat and, as I continue to thrust into her, I reach down to gently rub the apex of her pleasure with my thumb. Her voice rises and I feel her sex tighten around my wet cock, but I don’t stop moving my thumb. I know I have her at my mercy.  She turns her head to the side with pleasure, panting my name. I gently rub her clitoris then apply a firm steady upwards pressure. She suddenly stills, arching her back, then cries out as she contracts around me.

“Look at me,” I command, and she does; sky lit eyes stare into mine as her faces contorts with a powerful organism, her swollen lips form a beautiful pink ‘o’.

The time to claim my own has arrived and I lay back over her, greedily chasing my orgasm in her tight velvety entrance. She wraps quaking legs around my back, and I sink even deeper into her. I thrust again and again with bruising force, faster, harder, deeper, moaning in ecstasy at the sheer perfection of sensation as she milks my erection.

She looks up at me and her eyes are filled with so much love that the sheer ecstasy of joining, intensifies. I feel her hands across my back, kneading my shoulders, pulling me into her as she rolls her hips to meet my every thrust.

I kiss her greedily and with little finesse. She tastes like ambrosia and the heat of our coupling ignites desire that coils tightly at the base of my cock.

She raises her knees and they curl against my ribs so I can penetrate the deepest depths of her, 1000 nerve endings spark each time I brush against her silken walls. I pray to the Valar I’m not hurting her for I can’t stop and I need this, I need to take this, and I slam into her.  

“Come, Eol,” her soft voice whispers in my ear and it’s all I need to surge over the crest. Every muscle in my body tightens for a moment, then my own pleasure uncoils and flows into her, filling her, claiming her with my seed. She is kissing my face, moaning my name but I am aware of nothing but the roar of blood in my head and the rush of semen as I release the last of myself into her.

I collapse above her and she clings to me tightly, running her hands through my hair and down my back. She kisses my face and tells me she loves me again and again as my shudders decrease and the last of my seed is spent.

When lucidity returns, I am lying in her arms, and we are still joined. I hear birds outside the window but it is too soon to let in the outside world and I tune them out. I turn into her and gently kiss her cheek, then I raise myself above her for just a moment, “Did I hurt you?”  I whisper. She smiles and says ‘no’ and I bury my face in my beautiful wife’s neck with a deep final sigh, holding her to me tightly.

Laying there, in the comfort of her warm thighs and soft breath, I feel utterly complete.

It is a few moments before I realize she is speaking to me. Some amusing story about naming a horse, and I can't help but smile as I listen to her soothing voice. I roll onto my side and, propping myself up on my elbow, I watch her speak, but my attention is not on her words. It’s on the quirk of her smile, the animation of her voice, and her bright blue eyes.

My smile deepens and I shake my head, but not because of her story. It’s because I realize for the hundredth time since we married how ironic love is, for no matter how much I try to claim her, or how much I try to control her, it is she who will always control me. I cannot possess her without giving of myself, and here, within the mysterious beauty of Nan Elmoth, we belong to each other.  

 


End file.
